


bury it, and rise above.

by tousled



Series: did it frighten you? [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Additional Parent Characters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Character Death, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 19:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tousled/pseuds/tousled
Summary: “No, it’s okay.” Tuff says, not looking up and Astrid tucks some of his hair behind an ear. He’s holding a toy Astrid doesn’t recognise, but she doesn’t ask the significance.“Well, we can stop any time for a break.” She offers, pressing a kiss to his newly uncovered temple and that gets her half a gentle look. “I brought snickerdoodles.”“Mum’s favourite,” Tuff breathes, and for a minute looks like he’s going to cry. Astrid bends down to slip an arm around his shoulders and tug him into a half hug. He doesn’t let go of the toy, hands pressed into Astrid’s stomach and takes a shuddering breath.The thing is, the Thorston childhood household is full of memories that are so firmly lodged in Astrid's heart, and she wasn't even fully aware.





	bury it, and rise above.

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by [soligenas](http://soligenas.tumblr.com/) from an ask meme: 23. going through old boxes. warnings for background character death (mentioned; but doesn't explicitly happen "on screen"). ask me about my parent headcanons pls. 
> 
> this was actually really lovely to write? i got the whole thing written in two days (nearly 4.5k!!!), which is. woah. a lot for me. it's also the first time i've written something complete without second guessing - i feel like completing the httyd rare pair micro bang is what's really helped me. and soligenas being a supportive ear! i couldn't strive to complete so much without her, ily. 
> 
> title from bury it by chvrches. i listened whilst writing, i think it'd be nice to listen whilst reading.

The front door is open when Astrid arrives. She’s got a six pack of Tuff’s favourite beer in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other, and knocks with the back of the hand that’s holding beer. At the motion it swings inwards slightly, creaking open. There’s no noise inside, not even Tuff’s usual hum as he works, so she pushes again and steps inside.

 

“Tuff?” Astrid calls as she slips off her shoes in the entrance space. There’s no longer anyone there to enforce the no shoes inside rule, but it feels deeply wrong to even think about stepping out onto the carpet wearing shoes. The living room is silent, a series of boxes piled next to Mrs. Thorston’s favourite chair and the whole room feels heavy and wrong with the emptiness. Astrid slips into the kitchen, placing the cookies on the counter and checks the fridge is still plugged in before putting the beer away.

 

The linoleum is cold under her socked feet, so she spends as little time as possible on it, hopping back to the carpet. She takes the shortcut through dining room to get to the stairs to the second level and calls out again. At the continued lack of response, she picks up her pace, looking into the first bedroom and then the next worriedly until she nearly walks into the drop down ladder of the attic. Letting out a breath, Astrid tests the strength of the ladder before climbing up and sticking her head into the space.

 

“Tuff?” Astrid calls again, even though this time she can see his silhouette. He only half responds, a sort of hum that sounds like it’s trying to echo the melancholy silence of the house. Astrid frowns, pulling herself the rest of the way up into the attic. “You need to take a break baby?” She asks, stepping close enough to rest a hand gently on his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay.” Tuff says, not looking up and Astrid tucks some of his hair behind an ear. He’s holding a toy Astrid doesn’t recognise, but she doesn’t ask the significance.

“Well, we can stop any time for a break.” She offers, pressing a kiss to his newly uncovered temple and that gets her half a gentle look. “I brought snickerdoodles.”

 

“Mum’s favourite,” Tuff breathes, and for a minute looks like he’s going to cry. Astrid bends down to slip an arm around his shoulders and tug him into a half hug. He doesn’t let go of the toy, hands pressed into Astrid’s stomach and takes a shuddering breath.

“It’s okay,” Astrid says, because she doesn’t really know what else to say and maybe she shouldn’t have brought snickerdoodles. Crying is probably her least favourite expression of emotion and she wishes someone else was here to be a better shoulder.

“Thanks A,” Tuff sniffs, after another moment and pushes himself back up and out of Astrid’s grip. He offers a fragile sort of smile and Astrid straightens up, brushing the hair back from his face again as her own mouth tries out a gentle smile of its own. “If you could start at the other end of the attic it would be good, there’s a lot of stuff.”

 

There _is_ a lot of stuff; Astrid knew Mrs Thorston loved keeping trinkets and containers, but she had no idea the extent of it. She’s not even sure how she’s going to sort through all this stuff. “Sure. I’ll stick with salvageable or not. I don’t think I could make decisions on some of this stuff.”

“Keep all the photos, even if they’re bad.” Tuff says, and Astrid nods, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before turning to try and work out a way to the other side of the attic.

 

It’s doable, navigating between all the old shoeboxes and trunks and cardboard boxes, if she’s careful and twists around the spaces. A stack of old newspapers goes toppling until Astrid catches the lean, holding onto the brittle paper and looks back over her shoulder at Tuff to grab his attention. He gets the picture, putting the toys he’s holding down and steps over very carefully to help take the newspapers downstairs to the recycling. None of them seem important, nothing circled, and some with clippings taken so Astrid doesn’t feel too bad watching them fall into the bin. Mrs Thorston liked to keep notes and photo albums so she thinks everything really important is probably tucked away neatly next to photos and notes, paperclipped into space.

 

Tuff returns to the trunk of toys he’s looking at, munching on a snickerdoodle and Astrid only stares for a moment. It’s quiet up here, just the two of them, with none of Tuff’s usual cheer. Everyone else had begged out, and Ruff’s out of town and Astrid had nearly suggested they wait until Ruff was back but she understands needing to cling to the memories whilst they’re still fresh. She thinks of the filigree locket that sits on her dresser at home, a photo of her Uncle Finn one side and she almost wishes she brought him along.

 

(The other side of that locket is a photo of her mama, who she could bring along in real life. Perhaps she should have; Tuff had always sunk into her mama’s arms like it was the next best place to his own mother’s. But the attic ladder would be too much, and maybe anything but this tentative emotion would be too much too.)

 

The first box is photo albums, family history likely as Astrid doesn’t recognise anyone as she flips through. Some of the photos look old, some with colour painted onto the cheeks and she closes it carefully. The rest of the albums in the box are similar, old looking photos of well dressed people, and newer ones taken by professional photographers. She eventually comes across the newest ones; the twins as babies, all chubby cheeked and grumpy faces. They’re sweet, and she remembers Mrs Thorston pulling these out on several occasions to embarrass the twins. Ruff was probably the most annoyed; unflappable Tuff laughing as his mother showed his girlfriend baby photos. It was far more upsetting and undignified for Ruff to be dragged into it.

 

Pulling a marker out of her pocket Astrid tucks the lid back on and writes out ‘KEEP: PHOTOS’ on the top. Tucking the pen away Astrid moves onto the next box which seems to be full of empty and washed take-out containers. She looks through it, checking there’s nothing underneath but the only other thing is a bunch of fortune cookie notes. Winding her way back she checks in with Tuff.

 

“This okay to recycle?” Astrid asks, even though she’s pretty sure. Tuff looks up, still on the toy box and there’s a frown scrunching up his brows.

“Keep the fortune cookie fortunes.” Tuff says, voice a little strangled. Astrid’s not sure _why_ , but it seems important so she gathers them all up into one plastic container and sets the whole box aside in case they need them as storage containers for other things.

 

“Is it okay if I put some music on?” Astrid asks when she gets back, and Tuff looks up with the strongest smile of the day, pointing over to a box of records.

“Mum loved old tunes,” He offers, and Astrid remembers. She remembers helping with dishes after staying over for dinner, Mrs Thorston dancing to Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald with soapy gloves and Tuff laughing as she spun him around. Ruff would join in, easy as pie and the three of them looked so happy, their own little world Astrid didn’t want to break. Mrs Thorston would drag Astrid in, smiling and she’d felt silly and uncoordinated for the first time in her life but dancing in the kitchen wasn’t about being perfect.

 

Astrid dusts the gramophone off, stopping to go and grab a cloth from the kitchen and grabbing an extension cord. She plugs it in, pulling out the first record she finds and sets it to play. It crackles into life, soft and sweet and Astrid glances over to Tuff’s little smile as she goes back to her work.

 

The next box is obviously some kind of awards box because there’s a first place ribbon (and many participation awards; a couple of second place too) and a framed photograph of Tuff. He’s all of six, grinning a gap toothed and too bright smile with one arm around Ruff’s shoulders, the other around Astrid’s and showing off the ribbon pinned to his shirt. Astrid remembers the moment; it’s a little foggy, but she remembers his laugh when two years older Dagur had tripped and Tuff had won the sprint at the school sports day. She remembers him wearing it every day for two weeks until a big kid had tried to cut it up with a pair of scissors and Ruff had got a time out for fighting. Ruff got a lot of time outs and detentions for fighting, all sharp elbows and tightly wound anger in a way Astrid understood. Under the rest of the items there’s certificates and a green belt, plus a couple of tiny little sports uniforms.

 

“Such a cute kid,” Astrid says to no one, pulling out another couple of photos. There’s Tuff at a school awards presentation, hair brushed and school uniform neat for once. He looks overwhelmed, flush high on his cheeks and half a step behind Ruff. She tucks it all away, shutting the lid and adding ‘KEEP: MEMENTOS’ to the top. The next box after that is more of the same, but this time of Ruff’s achievements and awards and Astrid doesn’t hold a smile back. There’s a photo of the both of them, eleven or so, holding the same piece of paper and Astrid remembers the war path of her own mama complaining loudly at the school reception that the Thorston twins were expected to _share_ awards. Ruff and Tuff hadn’t told Mrs Thorston yet, but the injustice of Astrid’s three pieces of paper to the twin’s one had been the first thing she’d mentioned the second she’d jumped into her mama’s car.

 

The rest of Ruff’s box holds similar achievements: a purple belt, a broken hockey stick, a set of ribbons. Astrid doesn’t pry too deep, unsure of how much Ruff would actually appreciate it and she shuts the lid to add ‘KEEP: MEMENTOS’ to the top.

 

“I’m not really sorting stuff well,” Astrid calls out, loud enough to be heard over Tuff’s humming along to Nat King Cole. “I feel like it’s not really my choice.”

“That’s fine,” Tuff calls back. He doesn’t expand, going back to his humming and it quickly evolves into actual singing. Astrid can’t see him behind a stack of boxes on a sette, but she thinks maybe it’s just being here that’s important. She thinks she’d want that too.

 

Moving on Astrid finds a set of games: bocce, and a baseball bat for a child, two sticks and one bail of a wicket. She packs them up, the bocce looks barely used and not even a full wicket is useful so she takes them down stairs. The bocce set goes into the sell pile, alongside the baseball bat and ping pong paddle set. She puts the wicket pieces to one side, in case they find the rest.

 

Tuff’s swapping over the record when she gets back, this time to some Sinatra and the song makes her want to sweep him up into silly dancing like all those years ago. She’d probably be a poor substitute so she goes back to where she’s slowly cleaning up. The next box is more plastic containers, and so is the next. They go into the recycle this time, Astrid fishing out any fortune cookie fortunes like promised. She’s probably going to get exhausted going up and down the attic stairs and the main stairs all the time like this. All for a good cause though.

 

The box of toys Tuff’s been going through is signed off, a scribbled ‘KEEP!!!!!’ on top as Tuff’s opening up what looks like a chest of old clothes. Some of it’s very frilly, ruffles and buttons and Astrid’s not sure if it’s supposed to be dress up or not. At her footfalls Tuff turns to look her with a raised eyebrow. Astrid smirks and steps over to pick up a lace nightgown with fur trim.

 

“Did you ever wear this?” Astrid teases, even though it all looks like it’s been sitting up here for years and Tuff laughs, maybe for the first time since the funeral.

“My favourite pajamas.” He says. It’s the laugh in his eyes that makes her take her jacket off and pull the silly nightgown over the top of her head. Obviously it’s meant for someone with a much larger bust than Astrid, and it’s too long but she tucks up the sleeves and holds out her hand as the record player clicks over to the next song.

 

“May I have this dance?” Astrid holds out a hand and Tuff’s grinning wide as he takes it, letting go for a moment before struggling this horrible frilly shirt over his own head. It’s far too big too, for a man twice Tuff’s size and so it twirls like a short dress when Astrid spins him. They don’t have much space to move so after nearly tripping over two boxes Astrid tugs him close. The fur tickles, and Tuff sneezes as he’s laughing so when the song ends they break apart to pull off the ridiculous clothes.

“Got to buy a boy dinner before you go any further Hoff,” Tuff says, very serious in tone, but it’s lost amongst him struggling with the shirt and Astrid laughs, helping with the buttons.

 

“Three more boxes before lunch?” She suggests, although she doesn’t know how long that’s really going to take.

“I was just thinking pizza,” Tuff says, the uptilt of a shrug small in motion. Astrid takes the frilly shirt from him so it gets folded back properly.

“Sure,” she smiles. “I brought beer.”

 

Astrid pauses to order as Tuff’s going through the clothes some more, picking up fancy collared shirts and paisley trousers and petticoats. He’s making a dumb face, holding up a bright pink sequined shirt as she asks for a Hawaiian and a deep-dish Supreme, and only tells him pineapple on pizza is disgusting once. The sequins sparkle in the light, but not bright enough to out shine Tuff’s smile. For a moment, she’d considering cutting him some slack and not mentioning how hideous pineapple is outside of fruit salad and piña coladas, but the grin is enough to suggest she was right in bringing it up.

 

“I bet you can’t even get two boxes done in half an hour,” Astrid says, putting her phone back into her pocket. He’s tried two other hideous shirts since she got on the phone so it’s likely.

“I bet you can’t finish _five,_ ” Tuff challenges back, dropping the sequin shirt back into the box without folding. The next piece of clothing is an orange monstrosity of a skirt with an applique poodle at the seam.

“Winner gets to pick tonight’s movie.” Astrid offers, and Tuff stops messing around with the skirt to take her hand with serious little nod to seal the deal.

 

Astrid slips back through the boxes of the attic to where she was working and starts on another set of boxes full of washed and empty take out containers. The next box is too. There seems to be an endless supply, which makes Astrid wonder. What on earth did Mrs Thorston think she was going to do with all this plastic? Setting them aside she finds a small wooden chest, carved with intricate patterns and picks it up. It feels soft to touch, and is lined with velvet and filled with jewelry. Picking up a chain of pearls, Astrid rolls them over in one hand and is fairly sure none of this is costume. She puts it back, brushing her fingers over an Art Deco brooch and a couple of old fashioned rings.

 

“Tuff?” She calls, shutting the box and winding her way back through the maze of belongings. Tuff’s still on the box of clothing, even though it’s hardly getting sorted today and he looks up without the brittleness of an hour or two ago. “I found some jewelry.”

“Oh,” Tuff says, abandoning the clothing. He reaches out to flick open the lid whilst it’s still in Astrid’s hands and breathes in sharply.

“You okay?” Astrid asks, unsure of this response. Tuff picks up a pair of rings that’s looped through a chain, tight smile as he looks up.

“Inheritance,” Tuff says, running his hands over the rings. One is a plain gold band and the other with chips of something bright blue, and possibly diamond, although Astrid’s not sure. Astrid doesn’t know what to add, standing still with the open jewelry box. “There were my gran’s, she left them for me and Ruff, but we decided that Ruff would get mum’s wedding and engagement rings, and I have both of gran’s instead.”

 

“How were you supposed to find this?” Astrid asks, because otherwise she’ll think of what that means. Of what it symbolises _._

“Luck, probably. Gran would have wanted us to tidy.” Tuff shrugs and holds up the necklace with the clasp open like he wants to put it on. Rolling her eyes Astrid shuts the jewelry box and puts it down, reaching around Tuff’s shoulders to pull his hair up off neck. He fastens it, dropping his hands to rest at Astrid’s hips when he’s done. She lets go of his hair slowly, letting it fan as it swings back down and drinks him in.

 

“I would have never believed it possible if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes,” Astrid jokes, tucking one hand behind his neck. It’s not true, Tuff can be _very_ clean when he wants to and she’s witnessed enough insomnia induced mopping to almost call him a neat freak. In any case, Tuff looks like maybe he spent all night cleaning windows and tile floors missing his mum, so jokes are a prerequisite.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tuff scowls, expression exaggerated. Astrid tugs him closer so she can kiss the knot between his brows away.

“Come on, there’s fifteen minutes of our bet left and I’m already at three boxes.” Fifteen more minutes and Astrid’s going to try and convince a complete break until Ruff returns.

 

Tuff goes back to his clothing box, shoving everything back and Astrid watches for a moment before turning back to pick at the next set of things. She finds another box of old newspapers, a set of cooking magazines with heavy silverfish damage and some moth eaten clothes. It sucks up six or so minutes carrying all the recyclables back down stairs, filling the bin up in the process. Behind all that is baby furniture; enough dismantled pieces to make one and half cots and a rickety rocking chair. The missing parts of the wicket are stacked up there too, next to a change table and several empty bins nested in one another.

 

The furniture won’t come without a path so Astrid turns around to the boxes between her and Tuff, opening up another falling apart cardboard box of empty matchboxes. She’s already won the bet, and as she walks back past Tuff to the stairs again he’s still at the box he opened after the dress up clothes, staring carefully at trinkets from some holiday. Checking her watch she considers one more, and how she’ll let Tuff pick the movie anyway when she doesn’t miss the corner of a box and sends a couple toppling with a crash.

 

“Whoops,” she says, mostly to herself, and is more careful as she steps around to pick the fallen stuff up.

 

Thankfully, one of the tipped up boxes is some more of Mrs Thorston’s hoarded magazines and no damage is done. Astrid bends to pick up all the papers up, tucking them back into their cardboard cartoon. The other box is far more solid, and is likely the true cause of the noise. It’s hard card, stronger than the others and covered in sparkly paper and pictures of flowers cut out with uncareful hands. It looks like a kid’s collage, too bright for the eyes and has a label with smudged writing. Astrid runs a thumb over it, but it’s too messed up to read properly so Astrid just opens it, looking in.

 

“Mr Fluffkins,” Astrid says, picking up the plastic covered bear. Her heart feels too full, looking down at the box of treasures. There’s ticket stubs, a couple of movies Astrid remembers Tuff saving up pocket money to take her too, and of course, the hole punched carnival tickets where Mr Fluffkins was won. There’s photos too, of the both of them, when Tuff had almost cried at receiving Mr Fluffkins and the two of them heads together over homework, serious expressions. Holding hands at the park, Astrid laughing as she’s pushed down the slide. Prom pictures, Tuff’s flower patterned suit and navy tie that’s the same colour as Astrid’s dress. It’s cute, really, the two of them with wide eyed youth and the serious downturn of Astrid’s mouth. She remembers how excited he had been, and how hard she had tried to make it live up to all his high school movie fantasties.

 

“Mr Fluffkins?” Tuff asks, appearing out nowhere, looking over Astrid’s shoulder and she starts, dropping the photos back into the box. He’s smiling, reaching out for the bear and she passes it over. “I was looking for him, mum said she’d keep him safe but he wasn’t with the other toys.”

“He really was special, huh?” Astrid asks, but mostly to herself and isn’t expecting Tuff’s serious expression, hand at her shoulder, and half hugging the bear to his chest.

“No one’s ever won me a carnival toy,” he says, mouth firm. He looks simultaneously like he wants to spill his guts and perhaps never talk again. Astrid hears all the words behind it anyway.

 

“Didn’t Ruff win you that plastic spider once?” Astrid half teases. She grins at him and a short huff of laughter catches Tuff by surprise.

“It’s not the same,” Tuff says, and Astrid knows he means more than just because he liked to pick up real spiders when they were twelve. She thinks of how important that date was, of how much she hadn’t even known until eight months ago what it meant to Tuff too.

 

She wants to ask _did you think we were going to be forever too?_ But the moment is ruined by some very loud knocking. She jumps, dislodging Tuff’s hand, and looks at him confused for a second before remembering the pizza.

 

“Lunch break?” She asks, and Tuff gives her a solid smile.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he promises, and Astrid leaves him with the box of treasure to go downstairs and answer the door. She over tips the pizza delivery girl, but she’d waited longer than necessary and Astrid appreciates it regardless. Tuff’s still up in the attic when she places the two pizza boxes on the kitchen bench and calls for him.

 

Astrid pulls the beer out of the fridge, stepping quickly over the cold floor and cracks one open just as Tuff comes into the space, box of treasures in hand. She passes over the beer, watching carefully as he tucks Mr Fluffkins back into the box and steps close, slinging an arm around Astrid’s waist and taking the beer with the other. She opens another and clicks hers to Tuff’s and takes a sip.

 

“I’m not feeding you any of that abomination of a pizza,” she says, looping her own arm around Tuff and he rolls his eyes.

“You like supreme, you can hardly talk.” He takes a gulp of his own beer, stepping in even closer and puts the drink down on the counter. Instead of going for the pizza he goes for the box again, tugging it over and rummaging around. It makes Astrid feel jittery, too much of the day’s been balancing along the knife-edge of emotions, worried to fall either way. Eventually though, he pulls out a tiara. It’s plastic, and clearly meant for a child and one of the ends is broken.

 

“Hey, I remember that,” Astrid says, putting down her beer and taking the piece from Tuff. “You wore that to dress up day in year one and some grade three kid made fun of you for it. And then stole it off you, I’ve never seen quite so many tears over a plastic tiara before.”

“Yeah,” Tuff says, soft. He’s looking in the box again, but not touching anything else. “And then you elbowed him in the stomach for picking on me and rescued my tiara so I could still be a fairy princess. I knew, that day, you know?”

“I thought you were a snotty cry baby,” Astrid says. She didn’t _know._ She puts the broken plastic tiara back and picks up her beer to take another swig, leaning into the counter and pulling Tuff with her. She puts the beer back down and reaches over to the pizzas, opening up first the top one and then her own to stuff her mouth before she blurts _know what?_ and _how could you know?_

 

“Ruff said you were mean.” Tuff laughs, picking up his own piece of pizza. “But that day she thought you could be _okay_ when you wanted to be. She thought Heather was cool though.”

“What?” Astrid gives him a look, “Heather was just as annoying as me.”

“The Thorstons are very good at knowing what they want,” Tuff shrugs, and shoves the last of that piece of pizza in his mouth before turning to the next trinket in the box of treasures and Astrid thinks finding it was a perfect idea. A distraction of the future, spoken through the past, to get through the melancholy present.

 

Astrid thinks about her name still being in Mrs Thorston’s will, and how when she heard the news she clung to her own mama the way Tuff had clung the next day. She tightens the arm around Tuff’s waist and presses her head to his shoulder. She doesn’t need to hope that Mrs Thorston knows Astrid’s doing her best to love just as fiercely as she did.

 


End file.
